The first messenger flew out of the Owlery, and the first ray of orange sunlight climbed the spires of Hogwarts Castle.
The corridor was bustling again.
A large group of Young Wizards were walking down the spiral staircase towards the Dungeon.
"I heard that the Potion Class teacher is Professor Snape," Michael rubbed his sleepy eyes.
He had spent half the night researching a quill and was still yawning.
"It's a rumor I overheard in the Ravenclaw common room. The older Wizards say that Professor Snape is the entire Hogwarts..."
He paused deliberately, making Terry next to him crane his neck and press his ear closer.
Even the whispers of the surrounding Young Wizards quieted down a bit.
"He is the Professor who deducts the most House Points in all of Hogwarts."
His voice trembled as he spoke, and combined with the increasingly chilly environment, the Young Wizards' faces turned much paler.
In a deliberately created tense atmosphere,
they arrived at the Potion Class classroom.
This was an underground classroom, several degrees colder than the Castle above.
Even during the day, not much sunlight fell here,
relying entirely on some floating candles for illumination.
Glass jars lined the walls, filled with various animal specimens.
Sean chose a seat not far from these specimens; he could still see bat spleens when he turned his head.
That was a material for making magic Potions, which could be used to make swelling Potion.
As soon as he sat down, a boy with dimples sat beside him.
"Sean, I knew you'd come early."
Justin's face was beaming with a warm smile, then he took out his glass bottles from his bag and neatly placed them on the table.
Michael, who had been trying to sit next to Sean, widened his eyes and looked again in disbelief:
"Is it an illusion? When did he get here?"
Then he grumbled and casually found a seat.
Soon, all the students had arrived. Perhaps because of the chilly environment, or perhaps because of the terrifying legends about Professor Snape, not a single Young Wizard dared to shout.
In the midst of silence.
"Bang—"
A loud sound came from the Dungeon door. A sallow-faced, hook-nosed man strode into the classroom.
His flowing cloak billowed like the wings of a black bat.
In just a few agile, precise, and decisive steps, he ascended the podium.
"Listen—"
His voice was cold and deep.
"This class does not require you to chant spells blindly or wave your wand haphazardly... So I imagine, not many of you will appreciate the profound science and precise art of Potion-making.
However, for those very few who truly have that intention,
I will teach you to bewitch the mind, to ensnare the senses.
I will teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory... On one condition! That you are not the dunderheads I so often encounter!"
His voice was deep and powerful, quickly silencing the entire room.
"Hannah Abbott! Tell me, how should slugs be treated!"
His gaze was sharp, sweeping towards the Young Witch like a raging storm.
Staring at her with such eyes, the braided Young Witch's voice trembled:
"Steaming, Professor."
Hannah had clearly read the textbook in advance, even though this was only the first chapter's content.
Thus, she fortunately escaped unharmed.
"Sit down!"
Snape's expression still hadn't improved.
"Sean Green, tell me, how would you treat slugs with tentacles?"
He leaned forward slightly, blocking the candlelight.
"Steam for a longer time, about three minutes, Professor."
Sean answered immediately.
"Not bad,"
Snape swept away instantly.
"Wayne Hopkins! What is a bezoar?"
He hovered over Wayne like a dark cloud, and the short-haired Young Wizard's voice seemed squeezed out:
"I don't know, Professor."
"If your Troll-like brain were still functioning, you would know that a bezoar is a stony mass taken from the stomach of a goat, which can be used as an antidote to most poisons."
Snape's death glare remained fixed on Wayne, and the short-haired Young Wizard was already trembling.
"Sit down! Hufflepuff, one point deducted, for your classmate Wayne's empty head!"
He scanned the entire room; no one dared to meet his gaze.
"The rest of you, why aren't you writing it down!"
In the oppressive atmosphere, the Young Wizards furiously scribbled, as if they could escape the storm Professor Snape had stirred up by doing so.
And Professor Snape's deadly roll call continued.
"Ernie Macmillan!"
...He was completely like a ruthless House Point deducting machine. By the end of the questioning session,
Ravenclaw had already lost six points, and Hufflepuff had lost a whopping twelve points.
This made a conjecture naturally cross Sean's mind:
Slytherin's six consecutive championships seemed... inextricably linked to Professor Snape's efforts.
In the original work, Professor Snape even wrote down every student's name to make deducting House Points more convenient.
Professor Snape, he really... Professor Snape's next words made Sean listen intently.
"Listen carefully, if anyone dares to arbitrarily change the Potion recipe, or alter the steps without authorization—"
Professor Snape grimly scanned each face, ensuring that no one dared to be the slightest bit distracted.
Then he began to teach the steps for Murtlap Essence, a simple Potion for treating boils.
The cauldron in front of him steamed, bubbling within a few minutes, turning into a pot of dark green, thick Potion.
"I don't expect any of you to succeed quickly, I only hope that certain idiots don't create danger—
What are you waiting for? Now, in pairs, begin!"
Justin's face turned pale. He feigned calmness and began to follow the steps.
Sean wasn't much better, not because of the low pressure brought by Professor Snape, but because of his nervousness about his unknown Potion talent.
"Slugs, dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, porcupine quills... Sean, these are correct, right?"
Justin watched Sean stack the materials, asking him with lingering fear. Seeing the other party's calm face, he himself calmed down quite a bit.
"Mhm."
Sean nodded, then continued to process the materials according to the book's standards.
"Let's follow the steps. We'll process the slugs first."
Justin immediately understood and began to light the cauldron.
The book said that the cauldron needed to be preheated.
"Use my cauldron?"
Justin gently asked Sean.
Sean looked at Justin's silver cauldron, then nodded.
The quality of the cauldron wouldn't greatly affect the quality of the Potion, but Justin's silver cauldron was indeed much better than Sean's third-tier brass cauldron, which he had bought through gritted teeth.
It could also provide some success rate, even if only psychologically.
It's quite nice to sit next to a hidden rich person,
Sean thought.